Love is a many Splintered Thing
by Mc Fishstick
Summary: A dark romance-comedy (if there is such a thing) between the two most unlikely lovers, Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy. However, they will soon discover, the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference.
1. Pairings

Ron idly trailed his quill across the parchment, barely half-listening to the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, who was reading out the pairings for their end of year projects. He was always placed with Harry, so he paid little attention. 

He gazed at the scene depicted outside the window, the lake frozen, and the ground paralyzed in a deep frost. He shifted slightly, and regained his focus as he heard his name. "Weasley," Miss Esson paused, her light blue eyes flicking up the register. Ron had been briefly interested in this particular teacher when he heard she was young and female, but the infatuation had gradually subsided, mainly due to the scathing comments he received from Harry and Hermione. "And Malfoy, Potter and Granger. That's it for today, you are dismissed, enjoy your lunch." The rest of the class began to slowly pack away their things.

Harry turned quickly to Ron, eyes wide in shock, and then twisted around towards the opposite end of the classroom where the Slytherins were seated. Draco, Ron and Harry stood up simultaneously, and strode to the front of the classroom, towards Professor Esson, leaving a very bewildered Hermione behind.   

They all started at once. "I'm not working with that disgrace of an ignorant twat!" 

"That scumbag?!" 

"Not if I were dead!" 

"So unfair!" 

"Couldn't you just strip me naked, and parade me around the town?!" 

"What would be the point Weasley? We all knew with that red hair you had to be compensating for something!" 

"Shut up, Malfoy, you've no right! Unless you want me to start on the secret behind your pretty blond locks?"

This continued for some time until Professor Esson could be heard. "That is quite enough! Never have I heard such things from students! 40 points from Slytherin and Gryffindor! I can place you in whatever groups I see fit and you can and will work in them. If you fail to hand in your projects I will see that you have detention every day for the next year. Do you understand me?"

The three boys nodded meekly, although Draco still had the hint of defiance in his eyes. He turned to Ron, maintaining his dignity, though he was obviously enraged. The winter sun gleamed dangerously off his platinum hair, and he radiated a ferocious anger, that was reflected in his unnerving silver gaze.  Ron returned the look just as forcefully. "I will see you on Thursday, Weasley." He spat the word as if it was the name of some deep sea animal, that's extremely slimy and unpleasant. "Third floor. Second room to the left. Until then, try and keep your freak pheromones under check. Wouldn't want my reputation to be squashed now, would I?" He gave them all a sarcastic smile, and swept out of the room like a cold draught.    

Ron turned to Harry and Hermione, who, having watched the whole argument was now standing next to Harry. 

"I swear," said Ron, "The rod up that boy's ass must have a rod up it's ass." 

"Ten points from Gryffindor." Said Professor Esson from the corner of the room. "I need to get out of here," sighed Ron. "Before I murder someone."

Hermione and Harry followed behind him, chuckling silently, despite their sympathy.

***

Ron sat slumped in a chair in the cosy common room, refusing to go to lunch. Harry and Hermione had pleaded with him for the past twenty minutes, but their cries had fallen on deaf ears, as Ron glared at them, or rather through them, as though imagining their despairing faces to be Draco's. He snapped at anyone who said a word to him, and made violent stabbing motions at the chair with his wand. After two minutes of this, the chair protested by turning into a zebra. 

Ron abruptly stood up, and walked out of the room, muttering something about 'going for a walk', leaving Hermione and Harry to figure out how to change the seat back.

Hermione looked at Harry; he nodded in response, and went after Ron.  

Ron sat slumped against the courtyard wall looking resigned and profoundly exhausted. Harry approached him quietly, and perched beside him. "I wonder if he's impaled himself on the family of rods yet" commented Harry dryly. Ron let out a half hearted laugh, and turned to Harry. "It's as if that bastard sets out to ruin my life." He paused.  "I don't know how I'm going to face him without beating him into a rat-faced pulp."

Harry nodded sympathetically. "Maybe Hermione can find some sort of spell to help you resist your homicidal urges?"

Ron sniggered. "Not with the state I'm in. I've got more chance of falling in love with him!" Harry laughed derisively, and the two walked off in the general direction of the Gryffindor Common room. 

***


	2. Meddling ways

Sorry this chapter has taken so long to get out, I've just been really too busy to continue writing my fanfics, but I really like this one, so here is the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it and please review! 

It was Tuesday evening and Harry, Hermione and Ron were seated in the Gryffindor common room. Harry and Ron were discussing the results of the most recent Quidditch match between Puddlemere United and the Chudley Cannons. 

"Listen, Harry, whichever way you look at it, Bartley's quaffle handling in that match was amazing!" 

"Yes, but what about Puddlemere's beaters? The chasers barely got a look in, from all the bludgers they were getting!" 

"Oh come on, Harry, I've seen better beating from Ginny!" 

This prompted a cry of protest from Ginny across the room, which succeeded in resurrecting Hermione from the depths of _"Which wand- the definitive guide."_

"Oh god, look at the time, Harry we haven't even been to the library yet!" cried Hermione. "We really need to start work on" she continued, and then paused, casting a furtive look at Ron. "That…thing, we were doing, the other day, you know?" she said, giving Harry a sharp dig in the ribs. "Ow! Yeah, right that thing…" agreed Harry, nursing what he presumed was now a broken rib. He and Hermione had arranged to go the library that evening to work on their Defence Against the Dark Arts projects. Talking about it in front of Ron was like walking on eggshells. 

"It's alright," sighed Ron. "Just because I have a giant wanker to do my project with doesn't mean you should neglect yours." Harry and Hermione both looked at each other with surprise. Every time they had mentioned it since _that_ lesson he had flown into a rage. But now Ron was just slumped in his chair, a look of deepest despair painted on his face. "OK then." Said Harry, getting up slowly as Hermione stood, gathering various quills and parchment from the table. 

"We'll just be going then." Harry said tentatively. Ron nodded sullenly, his expression blank. "See you later" ventured Hermione, but received no reply. They both would have preferred to be shouted at. 

After a brisk walk through the largely uninhabited corridors Harry and Hermione arrived at the Library. As soon as they entered the ferocious Madame Pince was upon them, notifying them that they only had half an hour before the library closed for the night, so they had better get a move on. 

Once they had walked past a few rows of book shelves, the pair found their own secluded corner and sat on a couple of chairs, putting their bags down on a nearby table. Hermione proceeded to get out a plethora of quills, parchment, books and notes from her bag. Harry felt distinctly under prepared when he pulled out his tatty old notebook. Hermione eyed it critically, raising one eyebrow, and Harry promptly put it away. 

"Right." Began Hermione. "I think the best way to do this would be to cross reference this stuff I found on Boggarts with your work on goblins from last year." Harry nodded his approval. "While you're doing that, I'll find some stuff on Dementor curses, and then hopefully we can put it all together!" 

Hermione then went off to search for the appropriate books, while Harry laboriously began to compile Hermione's incredibly detailed work with his own. Hermione came back about five minutes later, clutching a medium sized pile of books, which she then dumped on the table, causing a mini avalanche of papers. "Sorry about that! I think I've found some great titles though." For the next ten minutes they continued to work, quietly marking pages and taking notes, but after a while, Harry realised that he had been reading the same line for five minutes and Hermione saw that she had been copying out the same paragraph over and over again. They both looked up. 

"I hope Ron's alright." Said Hermione. 

"Me too." Nodded Harry. "I hate to see him so…" Harry searched for the word. "Depressed." 

"Yeah," agreed Hermione "It's just not normal for him." In her agitation she picked up a random book from the shelf behind her, absently flicking through pages. "I mean, there's no way he and Draco can work together without beating each other up, and" Hermione stopped, suddenly transfixed by something in the book she picked up. Harry was slightly puzzled "And…?" but Hermione was still silent, furiously reading the page in front of her. Just as Harry decided to poke her with his quill, she came back to life. "Harry, this is brilliant, look at this!" she cried, handing him the book. 

_Fisticuffs Prevention Potion_

Can't control your murderous anger? Then this potion can give you the patience of a Saint! Lasts up to 24 hours- guaranteed to make _that_ person so much less annoying. Read instructions and ingredients carefully. 

Add ingredients in this order and brew for 5 hours: 

_ 1g wortroot  
1 powdered root of Asphodel  
3 Alihotsy leaves  
1 tsp of diluted bundimun secretion  
1 Runespoor Egg  
10 leeches_

"Interesting" said Harry, "But he would never agree to it, and if he ever found out…" Harry drew a line across his neck with his finger to illustrate the point. Hermione shuddered at the thought. "Yes," she agreed "but I really don't see how Ron is going to cope otherwise! I mean, you saw him earlier- he's a mess! If this can make it easier for him, then…" 

Harry sat in silence for a minute, thinking it through. If Ron were allowed to go to the meeting with Draco in his current frame of mind, it would probably result in one or the other getting beaten to a pulp. And the effects would only last for 24 hours. Ron would never find out, and he would at least get a halfway decent mark on his project. "OK" said Harry, conspiratorially. "When can we start brewing the potion?" 


	3. Puppet

_Third chapter! I only got a couple of reviews for last chapter so I would appreciate a few more this time. More I tell you! Enjoy. _

"Hermione!" whispered Harry, poking his head around the toilet cubicle. "Come in, quickly!" replied Hermione, prising the door open another couple of centimetres so that Harry could squeeze into the cramped space, before shutting it quickly, and drawing the lock, while Harry stepped his way over small piles of debris before clearing a space on the floor to sit on. "Did he buy the story then?" asked Hermione. "Yep, he thinks I have emergency Quidditch practice, and that I'll be back later." 

"Great." replied Hermione, concentrating as she added a number of wriggling leeches into the seething cauldron. "And you made sure no-one saw you?" "I hope not," muttered Harry, before adding, after a caustic glare from Hermione "Definitely not. No-one saw me, although you'd think they'd be used to it by now, seeing me strolling into girls' toilets." This was followed by a small snigger from Hermione, which she tried to cover up with a cough. "It's not funny, you know." continued Harry, "I caught myself explaining to Seamus the benefits of hair mousse the other day. I blame it on too much time spent in girls' toilets. Plus, every time I come in here Moaning Myrtle tries it on with me." After a few more minutes of faked coughing and stirring Hermione finally stood up, brushing off her robes. "Right. I've added all the ingredients now, all we have to do is wait until morning so we can slip some into his pumpkin juice." "Excellent" said Harry, as he struggled to his feet. "I just hope we're doing the right thing." he looked at Hermione, biting his lip. "Me too." replied Hermione. "Me too." 

The next morning Harry and Hermione both woke up with butterflies in their stomachs and a feeling of severe trepidation for the coming ordeal. Breakfast. Ron had still not surfaced from his pool of depression and it took some coercion on the part of Harry to get him to slouch his way down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, where Hermione was waiting. To Harry's annoyance she greeted them both with an overly cheerful 'Good morning!' whilst smiling maniacally. Ron replied with a grunt, Harry with a whispered 'Act normal!' and the three commenced on their way to the Great Hall, along with the other Gryffindors. 

Once they had reached the Hall and taken their seats at the Gryffindor table, Ron sat there resolutely chewing on a piece of dry toast, while Harry and Hermione desperately thought of ways to try and distract him. Hermione ventured a lame "Erm, Ron, would you like any butter on that?" Ron responded by shaking his head. Just as Harry was contemplating giving up on the whole plan (there was obviously no hope of enticing Ron into any kind of conversation) Ron burst out into an unexpected tirade. 

"You know what gets me? It's the fact that I get paired with him. Me. Not someone else. Me. I mean, it's not like there aren't other people in the class. There's like a one in twenty chance of being paired with him, and what do I get, eh? I get paired with the biggest most absolute-" 

"-ly amazing, attractive, talented individual in the whole of this school? Honestly, Weasley I had no idea you thought so highly of me, although anything is an improvement upon the tramps you hang around with." Malfoy, it seemed, had appeared from nowhere, to stand next to the Gryffindor table, flanked by his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. 

Ron turned slowly around, before standing up to look Malfoy in the eye. "You should have let me finish Malfoy, but then you may not have heard me anyway, considering your head is so far up your own arse!" The whole Gryffindor table sat in hushed silence at the spectacle. In the time this exchange had taken, Harry had stood up next to Ron, ready to restrain him if necessary, and Hermione had already slipped the concoction into Ron's pumpkin juice. "I'd rather have my head up my arse then listen to anything you have to say, Weasley. After all, you only speak in two syllable words. Even Potter can do better than that." Harry tried to intervene "Shut up Malfoy, come on Ron he's not worth it!" However, despite Harry's efforts, whatever patience had been left inside Ron snapped at that point, and he lunged, snarling at Malfoy, throwing a punch that only missed its target because Harry was holding Ron by the shoulders, pulling him back. 

At that moment Professor McGonogall came over, shrewdly assessing the situation. "Mr. Malfoy, would you kindly return to the Slytherin table, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, return to your seats." For a moment it looked like Ron and Draco were not going to comply. They stood, bodies angled towards each other, eyes locked, each of them glaring furiously at the other, sizing him up. In the end it was Draco who turned, breaking the tense atmosphere. Gradually, some of the chatter returned in the Hall. He motioned to Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. "See you later, Weasley." he said, smirking as he sauntered away. When he had left, Ron angrily shrugged his arms out of Harry's hold, flinging himself down onto the bench, his whole body shaking with anger, as he downed his glass of pumpkin juice. 

After classes had finished for the day, Ron was in a marginally better mood than he had been that morning. Harry and Hermione both preferred a cross Ron to a moping, depressed one, and when the time came for him to meet Draco he left with a kind of resignation, assuring them both that he would try to keep his temper in check. Despite his assurances, Ron still dragged his feet the entire way to the third floor, taking the longest possible route, hoping desperately that Malfoy wouldn't be there. Unfortunately, when he pushed open the door to the second room on the left, a disused Transfiguration classroom, Malfoy was already there, standing by the window, looking down at the grounds. The moonlight reflected off his hair and made it look like molten silver. As the door opened, he turned around, his face wearing his trademark sardonic smile. 

"You're late, Weasley." Ron tried extremely hard not to look at Draco as he began unpacking his bag, dumping things unceremoniously on a table. He replied through gritted teeth "I believe it's called fashionably late, Malfoy." Continuing the excavation of is bag. Draco hopped from his position on the windowsill, to stand across from Ron, his arms folded, glancing up and down at Ron's tatty robes. "Oh believe me Weasley, nothing about you is fashionable." Ron stopped unpacking his bags and balled his fists, his whole mind bent on nothing but teaching Malfoy a very, very painful lesson, but as he looked up, his eyes met Draco's and he felt a dizzying sensation, and had to steady himself on the table. Draco looked at him, with a mixture of disdain and concern. 

"Are you alright, Weasley?"  
_No I'm bloody well not, I'm in a room with the biggest twat in Christendom._  
But all he replied was "Yeah, I'm fine."  
_What? That's not what I wanted to say!_  
Draco was mildly surprised at how cordial Weasley was being. "Shall we get to work then?"  
_Yeah, I'll get to work beating the crap out of you._  
But all Ron did was nod. He felt so strange, like he was being invisibly gagged or as if someone else was controlling him, like a puppet. He didn't know what was more infuriating, Malfoy, or his own incapability to hit him. 

Draco was very puzzled; this new act of Weasley's was slightly disconcerting. When did Weasley learn about civilised behaviour? "Alright then," he said, flicking his wand to make a couple of chairs slide across the floor to rest next to himself and Ron. They both sat down and Draco began to talk about their project, however, Ron was barely listening to a word. His head was reeling; as though he had just downed ten butter beers, and his mind was bombarded with strange thoughts that he refused were his. All he could concentrate on was the beauty of Draco's hair, how it would feel entwined around his fingers, how his face was so delicately sculpted, the curve of his cheekbones, the way his lips moved when he talked and how exquisite they would feel against his own. Before he knew what he was doing, he had leaned over, powerless to stop himself, his whole mind screaming in disgust as he felt his lips connect with Draco's, for what was just a few seconds, but felt like hours, and then he pulled away, the dizziness was gone and he was left, as was Draco in a state of shock. 

Ron began furiously wiping his lips, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Malfoy was his enemy; he hated him more than he had ever hated anyone. Why did that just happen? Draco, seeing Ron's reaction was immediately on the defensive. "Wow Weasley, was it that bad?" Ron was feverishly rubbing his lips now, refusing to believe what this was real. "Only, I seem to remember it was you that started it." 

Ron stopped rubbing his lips, to rush at Malfoy, now he had finally regained the use of his limbs. He pushed Malfoy hard against the wall, enjoying it as he saw Malfoy wince with pain. "Now Malfoy, I don't know what you did, but this will never, ever happen again, do you hear me?" Malfoy turned his face aside, sneering. "Weasley, do you honestly think I drugged you? A dog could kiss better, which I'm sure the entire school will be very interested to hear tomorrow." Ron narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't tell anyone, Malfoy, you stand to lose just as much as me." Ron smiled with satisfaction as Malfoy looked away. He relaxed his grip a little, and Malfoy regained his composure. "Fine. I won't tell anyone." As he said this he leant closer to Ron, whispering in his ear, Ron felt Draco's breath hot against his neck. "For now." 

And with that he twisted out of Ron's grip and walked towards the door. Before he left, though, he added "Oh, and don't worry about the project. I'll do it myself." Ron waited until Draco's receding footsteps had died away before he slumped to the floor, exhausted. He would not go back to the Gryffindor common room, he couldn't face it. The one thought that plagued Ron before he fell asleep on the dusty floorboards was the terrible realisation that he had enjoyed the kiss with Malfoy; in some sick way he had enjoyed it. He did not know that down in the Slytherin dormitory, Draco was tossing in his bed for the same reason. 


	4. Fisticuffs

Ron woke up the following morning wondering what the hell he was doing sleeping on a cold dusty floor. His whole body ached as he finally pulled himself up off the ground, stretching his arms and legs, and brushing off all the dust from his robes. Then he remembered. The events of the previous evening all came flooding back to him in one blow, and he had to sit down again. Yesterday seemed like a horrible dream, and he could not and would not face up to what had happened. Kissing Malfoy? It almost made him want to laugh out loud, but it had not been a dream, and what's more, he had liked it. As soon as the thought surfaced, he pushed it away- it was impossible to contemplate. Thoughts and emotions were swirling around in Ron's head, and he felt himself beginning to get a terrible headache. He looked out of the window, and to his relief, saw that the Sun was only just coming up, bathing him in a rose tinted golden light. Before he had time to appreciate it, though, he remembered that he was meant to be in his own bed, not sitting on the floor in a dusty old classroom. He heaved himself up once more, making his way over to the door, which he shut as gently as possible. He just wished he could shut the doors in his mind as easily. 

When Ron arrived back at the Gryffindor common room, he tiptoed as quietly as he could back to his own bed. He crawled in, drawing the curtains around, and burying himself in the comfortable quilt, engulfed in relaxing warmth. Taking inspiration from his snoring comrades, he inexorably drifted into a deep sleep. Unfortunately it didn't last long enough for Ron's liking and he was woken an hour later by Harry roughly shaking his shoulder. Ron let out a disgruntled moan before propelling himself from the comfort of his bed. "Come on, Ron" said Harry. "Everyone else has already gone down to breakfast." 

Ron got out of his creased, slept-in robes, and into some comparatively presentable ones, and then tried to sort out his hair. While he was doing this, Harry was making his bed. He decided to broach the subject of Ron's meeting with Draco, itching to find out whether the potion had worked according to plan. "So how did it go yesterday?" he asked, while pulling his quilt back over the bed. Ron continued to peer at himself in the mirror, before replying "Fine." Harry's curiosity was hardly appeased by this minimalist reply, so he tried again. "So you didn't fight then?" 

Ron, apparently satisfied with his hair, began the task of putting on his socks. He responded with "Nope." Harry was very perplexed by Ron's uncharacteristic reticence, so he decided to venture another question. "So you did some work on your project then?" Ron roughly pulled his socks up, before standing up. That last one had pissed him off. "What is this, Harry? The bloody Spanish inquisition? Yes, we worked on the project, no, we didn't fight! Is that enough for you?" Harry was a bit stunned by Ron's vehement reaction and just nodded silently, thinking it unwise to say anything further in case Ron decided to bite off his neck as well as his head. "Great." Said Ron, picking up his bag. "Shall we go to breakfast then?" and with that he walked though the door and down the staircase to the common room, Harry walking, somewhat bemusedly behind him. When they got down there Hermione was waiting for them. She had just opened her mouth to ask Ron how it went when she caught sight of Harry furiously shaking his head behind him. She got the point. "Morning!" she said. "We'd better get to breakfast." 

The rest of the morning passed in a fairly normal fashion. Ron was still quite cagey but his mood had definitely improved a great deal from earlier. The last lesson before lunch was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and everyone trooped in, took their seats, quietly chatting while Professor Esson took the register. Once she had finished and gotten everyone to quiet down she began the lesson. 

"As you all know, your projects are due in in two weeks today. I have spoken to one or two of you who say you are finding it difficult and would like to work on them in class. I am prepared to let you do that as long as you work quietly and get down to your work. Is everybody fine with that?" The class gave a kind of affirmative grunt and everyone began to move in order to sit with their partners. Ron had been making a special effort to be completely oblivious to Draco's presence in his classes, and felt nothing but pure dread at the prospect of a whole lesson working with him. 

He hoped he could just sit there and Professor Esson would just allow him to work alone, but after five minutes she noticed he was sitting by himself and told him to go over and sit with Draco. He complied with all the willingness of a lamb being led to the slaughter. He took his seat next to Draco, trying his absolute best not to look at him. Draco was slightly amused at being given the silent treatment by Ron, and simply continued to do his work, occasionally sneaking a glance at him from the corner of his eye. 

Ron half heartedly began doodling on a scrap of parchment, trying not to notice how gracefully Draco's hands handled the task of writing, how his arms were perfect, not too muscled, not too thin, and he found himself getting hotter, disturbed by how acutely aware he was of everything that touched his skin. At one point he brushed elbows with Draco and it took all of his inner resolve to prevent himself from shivering. It was with a great sense of relief then, that he left the lesson, practically running to lunch. 

However, he found that he could not concentrate on his food, and left the Great Hall early, saying to a mystified Harry and Hermione that he just needed a bit of fresh air. But he didn't go outside. He absently walked through corridors; finally sitting down against a wall on what he vaguely thought was the second floor. He needed to clear his head of all the weird thoughts that were pulsating in his brain; he refused to accept that he could be attracted to Draco. It was unthinkable, and yet he had never felt like that towards anyone before. His train of thought was disturbed when a girl from Hufflepuff in his year came along. 

He hazily remembered her name was Hannah Abbott. She was quite pretty and Ron felt he needed a distraction. "Hi Hannah" he called as she approached him. "Are you busy?" Hannah replied not really and Ron motioned for her to sit down. "So how are you today, Hannah?" asked Ron. "I'm alright," she said "bit stressed with all the projects at the moment, but ok. You?" Ron nodded in what he assumed was a sympathetic manner. "I'm ok. Listen, Hannah. You know there's a trip to Hogsmeade coming up in a couple of weeks?" Hannah nodded; the notice had gone up the week before. "Well how would you like to go with me?" Hannah was slightly surprised at the proposition, and was just about to reply when Draco Malfoy appeared from around a corner. 

Ron's eyes widened, and he groaned internally. Draco was sporting a scornful grin. "Well hello Weasley! And I see you have a lady friend with you." Draco cast his eye over the simpering excuse of a girl before him. "How very surprising. Aren't you a Hufflepuff Chaser?" this question was directed at Hannah. She silently nodded. "Well I must admit I always thought you played for the other team, Weasley." Draco smiled; it was so much fun watching Weasley squirm. Ron's ears went beetroot red- a sure sign that he had pissed him off. Lovely. 

Draco gave them both his widest grin before walking off, shaking away a vague feeling of jealousy that had appeared from nowhere. After Draco was out of sight Hannah revised her decision to accept Ron's offer. "Sorry Ron, but I've already arranged to go with my mates. Thanks anyway." Ron simply nodded, not hearing a word she said. All he could think of was that he was going to make Malfoy wish he had never been born. 

After two tedious afternoon lessons, and an even more tedious evening meal, Ron made his way up to the Gryffindor boy's dormitory, taking the steps two at a time. Then he walked over to Harry's bed and pulled the trunk out from underneath, where he knew Harry kept his invisibility cloak. Ron felt a twinge of guilt as he pulled it out, draping it around himself, but put the guilt aside. He was using it to get at Malfoy, he knew Harry wouldn't mind. All the same, he made sure nothing was out of place before he replaced the trunk back under Harry's bed. Once he had made sure he was fully covered by the cloak, he swept out of the room, leaving no evidence that he was ever there. 

He walked purposely and quietly through the corridors, narrowly avoiding Professor Snape, down the stairs to the Ground Floor, out of the main door and into the grounds. He made his way over to the Quidditch field, taking care to remove his footprints every now and then from the frosty grass, with a flick of his wand. The Slytherin team always practiced on Fridays and this was the perfect opportunity to confront Malfoy. Ron went through the entrance to the Quidditch field, but instead of walking to the pitch, he turned left into the changing rooms. 

The changing room afforded a blast of warm air as he pushed open the door, surveying the row of benches up against the wall, where the Slytherins had deposited their robes. Ron went and sat on the bench furthest from these piles of robes, which would hopefully be the place where he would be least likely to be discovered. 

He felt slightly nervous, and several times he contemplated leaving, but his anger at Malfoy overcame his nerves. The waiting for the Slytherins to come in from practice was incredibly boring, but Ron contented himself with imagining the beating he planned to give Malfoy. After half an hour, the Slytherin team trooped in, sweating and red faced from their practice, Draco among them, his hair plastered down, wiping sweat from his eyes. The team captain, who was ugly beyond belief, addressed the team. "Alright then. Next week we play that strategy, and Hufflepuff won't stand a chance." The team all nodded, the more enthusiastic shouting "Yeah!" and continued to get changed. 

Ron watched as Draco removed his Quidditch robes, trying his hardest not to admire Draco's defined stomach muscles. Gradually the Slytherins left in ones and twos until the only people left were Draco and the team captain. Draco was sitting relaxed on the bench, letting himself cool down. The captain pulled on his bag. "Good work today, Malfoy" before hulking his way out of the changing room. Ron waited until he could no longer hear his footsteps, before he pulled off the cloak. 

Draco's eyes widened as he saw Ron seemingly appear out of thin air, but he quickly recovered, standing up as Ron strode towards him. "Weasley, what a pleasant surprise. Do you make a habit of stalking people into changing rooms?" Ron's crimson hair seemed to be aflame in his anger, and his cobalt eyes gleamed hazardously, chest heaving. 

He couldn't muster the strength to reply, so instead he dived at Draco, aiming a colossal punch, straight at his head, roaring with rage. Draco sidestepped cleanly, shoving his knee into Ron's ribs, knocking him over and winding him. Draco made a bid for the door, but was stopped abruptly when Ron grabbed his ankle, toppling him to the floor. Draco kicked out viciously with his foot, but Ron used it as leverage to get onto his knees and then his feet. He was about to boot Draco in the chest, when Draco kicked out again, this time for Ron's ankle, felling him once again to the floor. This time he would not let Ron get the advantage. He pounced on Ron, pinning his arms above his head, physically sitting on him, straddling his waist. 

Ron roared again, but still could not move. "Easy there, carrot top." Said Draco, enjoying his position of advantage. "Malfoy, get off me!" shouted Ron, struggling against Draco's hold. "What so you can attack me again?" Draco smiled sarcastically. Ron's efforts to escape were becoming less and less fruitful, so he was still for a second; also he had the disturbing suspicion that he was enjoying having Draco on top of him. He shook his head to dispel the thought. Draco relaxed his grip just slightly, but in that moment Ron took the opportunity to roll out of Draco's hold, and on top of him. Ron gave an ironic laugh. "Oh how the mighty have fallen." But Ron had underestimated Draco's strength. Before he had time to gloat some more, Draco was back on top. Ron's hair was standing up in erratic spikes, His cheeks were a bright shade of pink, and he was breathing heavily. 

Draco felt the blood rushing through his veins and pounding in his head, he felt Ron's solid weight underneath him. Before he knew what he was doing he tilted his head to Ron's face, kissing him urgently, letting his lips rove down to his neck, leaving trails of fire on Ron's skin. Ron moaned with pleasure, not believing it was real. Draco sat up again, looking Ron in the eye. He wasn't sure if he had made a mistake, and it was not a Malfoy trait to feel uncertainty. This weakness disturbed him. Before Ron could say anything Draco got up, pulling his robes off a hanger and sprinted out, leaving Ron alone on the changing room floor. 

_ He started the chapter on the floor, he ended it there! What can I say; I have a thing about the floor. Yes, well this chapter was a bit steamier, so I hope you all enjoyed it. I love to read your reviews, so keep 'em coming, in larger quantities. : 3 _


	5. Sanity

Ron remained on the floor of the changing room for a considerable amount of time, eventually sitting up with his back to the wall, allowing it's coolness to permeate his skin and subdue the fever which had previously been coursing through his veins.  
After his 'rendez-vous' with Malfoy he had felt like a maddened bull, his conflicting thoughts and emotions only serving as a red rag to further enrage and confuse him. However, as time had passed he had gradually returned to reality, and he became more sensible of his surroundings.

He was aware that he was cold, and that his jaw was stinging rather unpleasantly. Touching it tentatively he was not surprised to find that it was bruised. 'Shit' he thought. 'I'll have to get Madame Pomfrey to sort that for me. And what will Harry think? And Hermione...' Casting his gaze around the room, Ron's eyes alighted upon a little compact case of foundation lying on the floor, probably discarded by some careless 8th Year girl. For one moment he considered using it to cover up the bruise, before being suddenly repelled at the thought. 'First, having a snog with Malfoy, now getting myself dolled up! What in the bloody hell is wrong with me?'

However disturbing this thought had been, it did afford him a moment of mental clarity, as he dwelled upon that last phrase. 'What IS wrong with me?' The events of the past couple of days simply did not make sense. He had had it off with a boy. Not just any boy, either, but Malfoy. His arch-nemesis, his foil, the bane of his life... he could go on. Why, when they had met on the 3rd floor, had he been unable to act on his impulses? It had been as though he was not in control of his own behaviour. There was absolutely no way in Hell he would ever have tried to kiss Malfoy if he had been in possession of all his faculties. Unless he wasn't. But what could have happened then? Was he just making excuses for the fact that he had fancied Malfoy all along? No, no, it simply wasn't possible. Malfoy had denied drugging him, but who else could be the culprit? Unless...

'HAAAAAAARY!' bellowed Ron, as he bowled into the Gryffindor Common Room, ignoring the withering look he received from the Fat Lady. Making his way past tables of nonplussed looking Gryffindors, Ron strode over to a small pair of armchairs in the corner of the room, where Harry and Hermione had been previously chatting animatedly, but were now staring at him in a shocked silence. He hissed at them predatorially. 'You two. Outside. NOW.'

Ron ignored their bleats of confusion and disgruntled mumbling as he bustled and shoved them out of the main building and into the grounds, where a gentle breeze played across the grass as dusk began to blot out the Sun's last diluted rays. Hermione folded her arms in consternation, evidently annoyed about having her studies disturbed. 'Look, what is this about, Ron? And was there any need to bring us out here? And where have you been all evening?'

'Ohoho. That is RICH Hermione. YOU are moaning at ME, after what the pair of you have done?'

Harry and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance. How could he have found out?

'I'm sure I don't know what you mean Ron.' Replied Hermione, smiling somewhat strainedly. She did not want to confess so readily, especially as Ron was looking less than mentally stable at the present time.

'Oh, you know what I mean, Herm. You're the smartest girl in the year!'

Ron's behaviour was becoming increasingly erratic and Harry grasped his wand in his pocket, the coarse texture of the wood having a calming effect on him. 'Look Ron, shall we just sit down and have a chat about this? If you're talking about that Chudley Cannons book I borrowed off you, I WAS going to give it ba-'

'Well, there is the Chudley Cannons book, but I must confess I was thinking more about the way you two decided to DRUG ME.'

Harry coughed.

Seeing that he wasn't prepared to volunteer an explanation, Hermione decided to bite the bullet, and placed her hand on Ron's arm, in a placating gesture. 'Look, Ron. You have to believe me when I say we only had your best interests at heart. We used a harmless potion from a book in the library... we just wanted to prevent any unnecessary friction between you and Malfoy.'

Ron winced at Hermione's use of the term 'friction', but at least he finally had the confirmation that he wasn't actually mad, which heartened him somewhat.

'When does it wear off?' he asked, arms resolutely folded.

'Well it should have done already' answered Harry, finding his voice once more.

'Excellent.' nodded Ron. 'Great, fabulous, marvellous, fantastic, wonderful.'

Hermione and Harry at this point didn't know whether to be pleased or very, very afraid.

Unfolding his arms, Ron's face returned back to it's natural openness, and he even mustered a grin, placing his hands on both their shoulders and leading them back to the Common Room.

'I was just wondering why I couldn't kick his arse, that's all.' 


End file.
